Guilt by Association
by Gunner'sDream
Summary: Guilt can eat a person alive. Tony's curious about the past Tim has never been very forthcoming about. Tim's the one guilt is devouring. To get through his haunts Tim's going to need more than just an ear to bend and a shoulder to lean on. Oneshot. Slash.


A/N: My first NCIS fic. Updated 11.14.12

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><p>"McGee. Tell me something about yourself." Tony twisted his head from where it was lying against the back cushion of the couch, to view the man sitting next to him. And damn, he'd already looked at the man at least a hundred times that night, and still his heart refused to calm down at even just the mere sight of him. Even in worn jeans, a ratty t-shirt and mussed hair, the man easily got Tony's motor running. And those eyes. Well, those eyes really should be considered a lethal weapon. At that exact moment, Tim turned that weapon on him.<p>

"Like what, Tony?" His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. After all, this was just TV and pizza between two friends/coworkers. They'd done it a thousand times before and there had never been any type of heart to heart in the past.

"I don't know." Tony shook his head. He needed to learn to control his word vomit. He always just said whatever came into his head. Usually with bad results. He'd likely save himself a lot of awkward situations, like this one was turning into, if he learned to censor himself. "I don't feel like I know a whole lot about you man."

Tim cocked his head to the side in a way Tony tried not to find adorable.

"I mean, yeah, if you're talking about current stuff then I know you but anything from your past, you never share." Tim turned his head back towards the TV but didn't make a comment. Tony backtracked. He wanted to know about the man he wanted to throw on the floor and ravish but he didn't want to make him feel obligated or uncomfortable. He wanted him to want to share with him. "You don't have to tell me anything. I understand wanting to keep to yourself. I like sharing about as much as I like pulling stakeout duty."

"What do you want to know?" Tim cutoff his rambling with the soft question but still didn't face him.

Tony muted the television. "I..." He had a thousand things he wanted to know but a lot of his questions weren't appropriate to ask someone you weren't sleeping with. "What about your parents?" Tim turned his head to face Tony, resting his cheek on the back of the couch. "You kind of told us about your dad. Nice guy." Tony said sarcastically, Tim cracked a small smile. "What about your mom?"

"We lost her to cancer when I was twelve." Tony's eyebrows rose, he'd thought she was still living. "Dad always resented us—me and Sarah—for that."

"For her dying?" Tony's voice was soft, almost gentle.

Tim's eyebrows crinkled again but he answered the question. "No because he couldn't tour as a Navy Commander anymore. Had to stay home and take care of two nuisances." Tim explained in an emotionless voice. "Somewhere along the line he'd fallen out of love with my mother. Wasn't even there when she passed." He shook his head, a spark of anger lighting his eyes but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "But that was far from where my problems with him started."

Tony had even more questions than he'd had before but could tell this was a subject Tim wasn't exactly comfortable talking about. He tried for something lighter. "What about friends? Did you have any good friends from school?"

Tim's head turned again but not before Tony saw a flash of something in his eyes. "Yeah, a few from college. Several from FLETC."

"Ever have a best friend?" Tony asked it casually, trying to keep the conversation flowing but his question only seemed to set Tim on edge even more.

It was silent for a long moment, their even breaths the only thing filling the air. "Once."

Tony had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He asked his next question almost hesitantly, pretty sure he really didn't want to know. "What happened?"

For minutes it was completely still. Tim wasn't even looking at him anymore. His head was still resting on the cushion, his body facing Tony but his eyes were pointed towards the ground, focused on something far away.

Tony was almost sure Tim wasn't going to answer. For some reason the topic obviously caused a feeling of extreme discomfort within his friend. He really had just wanted to know more about Tim and his life before the team. He liked Tim...much more than a _friend_ should and what he most of all wanted to know was if Tim could ever feel the same way about him. If he even had a shot. Now he'd gone and caused haunts of Tim's past to pop back into his present. If Gibbs were here he'd be getting a head slap right about now. Not that it would be undeserved.

He looked at his friend, still a thousand miles away and waved a hand in front of his face. "McGee? Tim? You in there man?"

It took a few moments but Tim's eyes blinked back to life, finally focusing in on Tony. "He died, Tony." Tim looked him straight in the eyes. "He died. I killed him."

Tony's eyes widened to a massive level. He knew everyone on the team had their past ghosts but he never would have guessed Timothy McGee to have the biggest ones out of all of them. And surely sweet little Timmy hadn't just confessed to murdering someone—his once best friend, none-the-less. Tony refused to believe it. He needed to figure out just exactly what Tim was confessing to him.

"Whoa. Whoa, Tim! What are you talking about?" Tony grabbed his shoulders but Tim tore out of his grip. Standing up and backing away, his face fierce.

"It was my fault, Tony. It's always been my fault."

Tony stood up causing Tim to put even more distance between them.

"He's told me so, Tony." Okay, now Tony was really worried but Tim just shook his head, seemingly reading Tony's mind. "In my dreams, Tony. Jason used to tell me all the time, that if I had just..." He sucked in a quick breath. "If I had just..." He stopped, leaning forward, bracing himself against his small table.

Tony didn't move any closer. He didn't want to agitate Tim even more than he already was. Instead, he leaned his backside against the back of the couch and crossed his arms. The picture of calm, while on the inside a storm was raging. "Start from the beginning, McGee. Who was Jason?"

Tim's head shot up as if he'd forgotten Tony was there. "Jason was my best friend in high school. We met freshman year and were inseparable until our Junior year when...everything happened."

Tim stopped talking and just stared at Tony like a deer caught in the headlights. "What happened, Tim? What happened with Jason?"

Tim visibly shivered, his hands grasping hard at the hem of his own t-shirt for some semblance of support. "He died."

Tony shook his head. "I know, Tim but how did he die. How did the whole situation start?"

"We were drinking." Tim's eyes glazed over again but the tremors continued. "Celebrating something. Don't know what." Tim continued on autopilot.

- . - . -

"_Hey, Tim." Jason called him from his spot in the grass a few feet away._

"_Yeah, Jase?" Tim turned his head, eyes blearily finding Jason's form in the dark._

_His friend giggled causing Tim to smile widely. "Isn't it funny how horrible vodka tastes at first but then you get toasted and you can chug the stuff like...like.. tomato soup?"_

"_Tomato soup?" Tim chuckled along with his friend. He still wasn't at the point where vodka didn't taste horrid, he hadn't had as much to drink as Jason had. He wasn't a fan of not having his wits about him, especially around Jason who was a bit of a bipolar drunk. Happy one second, crying the next._

"_Yeah man. I'm starving. Hey!" Jason shouted, suddenly in Tim's face. Tim startled but calmed, plugging his nose from Jason's alcohol breath._

"_What?" Tim asked, just as loudly, his voice coming out nasally._

"_Let's go get some food dude. I'm so hungry I could eat a...something." He stood up, wavering slightly, grabbing onto the large tree to keep himself upright._

"_How we ganna do that, Jase?" Tim stood up too, the clear liquor bottle dangling from his hand. "We can't walk and if my dad finds out we're drunk, he will literally kill me."_

_Jason just smiled like the Cheshire cat and lifted up his hand, a key ring dangling from his thumb. With his other hand he grabbed the bottle from Tim and took another hefty gulp. "Iwll drive." His words were slurring together._

"_No, no, no, no, no, no." Tim kept mumbling trying to get the keys from Jason's hand. He stumbled. Maybe he was a bit tipsier than he'd thought. "We are not driving drunk, Jason. No way. We cn—we can just walk if you really want something that bad." Tim was trying to be rational but his mind was fuzzing over._

"_No, Timmy. I'm fine. I nt drunk." Jason shook his head, almost falling over in the process. "I only hd, I unly hd a, a few drunks."_

"_Jace yur totally shit-faced, give me the keys man." Tim wobbled again, trying to get the keys as Jason pushed him away._

"_Yur totally shit-faced!" Jason shot back with real heat in his voice. This is what Tim had meant about him being a bipolar drunk._

"_Nice...nice comeback dude. Now give." Jason pushed him away harder this time. It didn't help that Jason had a good thirty pounds on Tim's scrawny form. Tim grabbed at the keys again not expecting Jason to backhand him, knocking him over to the ground._

_Tim stared up at his friend in shock. He reached out thumbing a dot of blood from the corner of his mouth, shock finally turning into pain. Jason seemed just as surprised at first but it quickly turned into anger. He glared down at Tim._

"_Ya cn stay eff ya want but mm goin." He turned around, leaving Tim on the ground._

"_No yur not." Tim lunged, taking Jason's legs out from under him._

_- . - . -_

Tim stopped talking and Tony just stared at his friend. "What happened?" He finally asked, as if he couldn't already guess.

"We grappled." Tim finally answered. "We were both varsity wrestlers but he had me by a good thirty pounds." Tim dropped his head. "It was brutal for both of us but in the end he left me bleeding in the middle of the field. He drove away," Tim looked at him, a frankness in both his eyes and his voice. "And I let him."

"He got in a wreck?" Tony took a few cautious steps towards him.

Tim just nodded, a deep grief buried in his eyes. "Because I didn't stop him."

"But Tim, you were just a kid! You tried to stop him, you didn't just let him go, and he left you bloody and beaten in a field." He told Tim vehemently, trying to get this vital piece of information through his friend's head, "There was nothing you could have done. He'd made up his mind." He didn't seem to be getting through, so he tried a different tactic. "You're feeling guilty over something that wasn't your decision. The only way it would have been your fault is if _you_ were the one who decided to get behind the wheel drunk."

Tony watched Tim grow increasing more agitated during his attempt at a breakthrough. His cheeks flushed, teeth clenched, even his hands were shaking. Tony took a step back and put his hands up, almost worried his friend might do or say something he'd later regret if he got much more upset.

"Do you think that would make a difference to them?!" Tim finally yelled at him, incredulously.

Tony stopped in his tracks, his eyes sweeping Tim's face. "Who's them?" When Tim didn't answer Tony advanced, grabbing Tim's shoulders, nails digging in and shook. "Tim. Who is them?"

Tim met Tony's eyes with his own deep pools of misery, his anger momentarily fleeing him."The car he hit." He told him softly. Pausing he took a deep breath, looking at the ground. "The family he killed." He met Tony's eyes again. "The family I killed."

Tony finally understood. The real responsibility Tim felt was towards the family that had been caught in the firing line because of that kid's bad decision. The kid Tim felt he should have been able to stop.

Tony's mind tried to comprehend all that Tim's last words had told him. "That's why you joined NCIS. You have spent your entire life... trying to repay something that was never yours to pay back... to that family?" Tim's refusal to meet his eyes confirmed Tony's suspicions. "_You_ were not the one driving the car. _You_," He told Tim, poking him in the chest. "Were not the one who was drunk. _You_ were **not** the one who killed them."

Tim refused to believe the last part, instead deciding to answer Tony's first question, with one of his own, his rage fully back with vengeance. "Do you think it matters that I've spent my life trying to make it up to them? _Any_ of them?!"

"You don't h—" He started.

"No." Tim cut him off, deadly serious, the sneer on his face growing with every word. "Does. It. Matter to them?"

Tony didn't answer, instead just let Tim get it out.

"He is still dead." Tim stated bluntly, voice hard, looking Tony in the eye. "_They_. Are. Still. Dead." Tim emphasized each word.

"But Tim. Just listen—" He was cut off again.

"Don't you get it, Tony? Do you think because I save people's lives and put killers away that that makes everything right?" Tim's eyes were wild. Tony almost backed away but held himself in place. "Do you think that little, four year old girl that was in the car he hit, is up there in heaven, right now...thinking, 'Well, Timothy McGee may have let his friend kill me but at least he saved other people. My death is totally justified?'" Tim's voice rose with every word, until he was screaming at the end.

Tony watched as the fire burned in Tim's eyes. They looked almost as if glowing, as unshed tears glazed over his green orbs. The red bordering his puffy eyelids only adding to the illusion.

He tried again. "McGee...Tim. That was not your fault."

Tim ignored his comment, continuing on with his own line of thought. "No matter how many people I help save... it will never measure up to any of those lives that never should have been lost." He suddenly started shouting again, tears thick in his voice. "It doesn't matter if I save one person everyday for the rest of my life. It wouldn't matter if I hung myself from the rafters!" Tim ignored Tony's wince, "_They_will never get their lives back. And _that_," He emphasized the last word, as he met Tony's eyes, "is my fault."

Tony didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Nothing could change Tim's mind. He realized that now. And Tony couldn't fault him for it. He knew he would feel the same way, if he were in Tim's situation, even though Tony, the world, those people... knew it wasn't and never would be Tim's fault.

Tony watched as panic started to rise in Tim's features. It was all becoming too much for him. Bringing back too many unwanted memories and feelings. He needed something...something, anything to grasp on to. Something to hold him afloat before he drowned in his own guilt.

Suddenly Tony found himself on his back, trapped between the floorboards and Tim's hard body. Tim's lips smashed against his own. Kissing him as if his very survival depended on it. And as much as Tony wanted that, he found himself pushing Tim back.

"Tim!" He started but was cutoff again.

"Come on, Tony. I know you've wanted this just as long as me." Tim enticed Tony in a husky voice.

Tony didn't respond. He couldn't make his mouth verbalize what his mind wanted to say. Tim took that as a yes and his lips crashed back down on Tony's.

Tony moaned when Tim's tongue glazed across his lips, begging for entry. Tony wanted to. More than anything he wanted to but he knew he couldn't. He shouldn't. Not right now. It became a moot point as Tim's tongue pressed between his lips anyways, almost prying his mouth open. And much to Tony's shame...and pleasure, he didn't make it too hard for him.

Tony opened his mouth wider as Tim's tongue swooped in, tasting him. Another moan echoed through the room but he didn't know if it was his or Tim's as their tongues finally met. He didn't really care either. All that mattered now was Tim.

Tim.

Tony tried to push him away again, realizing yet again, that this wasn't right, but the other man was having none of it. Tim just pressed back harder; refusing to break the contact. In return, Tony found himself giving up again. He was finally doing something he'd only dreamed of. Why should he try and stop that?

His eyes shot open, as he felt a hand reach down and undo his belt. **That** was why.

He finally managed to break away this time. Giving Tim no choice but to look at him as he held his face between his hands.

"Tim." Tony managed between gasping breaths.

"Tony." Tim answered right back, his hand still working at Tony's pants.

Tony reached down and stilled Tim's hand with his own.

"Tony?" Tim stared at him uncomprehendingly. He'd thought he'd had him.

"We can't do this." The hurt in Tim's eyes made Tony hurry up and explain. "Not right now. Not because of that. It's not right."

Tim didn't even pretend to misunderstand. "It's not because of that."

"What then?"

Instead of answering Tim leaned down and kissed him again. This time it only lasted ten seconds before Tony pulled away.

"I want you. I need you. I have for a long time." Tim admitted fervently.

"Me too but now is not the right t-"

"I need this." Tony didn't look convinced. "Tony." He stared deep in the other man's eyes, pleading. "I need this."

Tony watched him for a full minute, deciding. Before, suddenly, it was no longer just Tim trying.

Tony's hands quickly found the buttons on Tim's shirt, undoing them, before sliding the shirt down his shoulders. Tim's response was to quickly shed his undershirt as well, leaving Tony to marvel at Tim's nearly unmarred skin. Tony took a few seconds to take in the sight above him.

Tim, pink cheeked and swollen lipped. Panting, his hard stomach sucking in a breaths as he stared back at Tony. Nothing but unmasked need in his eyes.

They met again in the middle and together threw Tony's shirt into the pile of their discarded clothing. Their pants soon following. Tim didn't waste any time to lose his boxers as well, Tony only seconds behind him.

Moving to the bed might have helped. Might have made it less painful on Tony's backside but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He didn't want to pause this for anything in the world.

Tim finally collapsed onto Tony's chest. They both rode their post waves down but the reason emotions had swung out of control still hung thick in the air. Tim lifted his head and Tony watched as the fire in Tim's eyes suddenly fizzled and then died.

"I can help other people all I want, but I can never give them their life back. Nothing I do could ever make it up to them, could never set it right. It will never be alright." Tim only spoke above a whisper as buried his head in the Tony's neck. His energy spent.

Tony just wrapped his arms around him; rubbing his back as the tears finally came.

"I couldn't save them." Tim sobbed against Tony neck.

"I know."

"I should have been able to."

"No."

"I should have found a way."

"Nothing you could have done."

"But-" Tim tried again.

"No."

It was many minutes of quiet sobbing later that Tim finally calmed down. He cleared his throat and moved to lay his cheek against Tony's chest. Tony just held the broken man, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"You need to understand, Tim." Tim tried to talk but Tony shushed him. "No, it will never be alright. And you will never be rid of the guilt." He felt Tim wilt further into him and the quiet sobbing start up again.

"But you need to accept that there was absolutely nothing else you could have done to stop Jason." Tony said it frankly but gently, knowing the answer he'd likely get.

"There had to have been something."

"What?" Tony gently threaded his hand through Tim's hair and pulled the man's head back until his was looking at Tony's face. "Thinking back on it what could you have done?"

Tim took the time to really think about the question. "I could have fought him harder."

"Are you saying you let him win?"

Tim shook his head fiercely. "No. Of course not."

"Then what did you expect? Some superhuman form of strength to overtake your body so you could physically hold him to the ground and pull the keys away?"

Tim just sighed, burying his face back into Tony's chest. "I don't know." It was several minutes later that he finally spoke again.

"I don't work at NCIS because of that."

Tony looked down upon him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I already knew I wanted to work for NCIS. NIS then." Tim shrugged. "I knew I wanted to spend my life helping people, making the world a better place. As corny as it sounds." The corner of Tim's mouth lifted up before he was serious again. "That night wasn't my reason for joining. My reason just turned into that."

Tony wouldn't share with him how relieved he was to hear that. He hadn't wanted Tim's entire life to be defined by a tragedy of his childhood. Instead he patted Tim's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get up. Take a shower, go to bed." He ruffled Tim's hair, almost lovingly. "Gibbs'll kill us if we're late tomorrow."

Tim just smiled up at him. Tony smiled back. It seemed their helter skelter, emotionally trying and extremely depressing talk was finally over. "I think he just might kill us anyway." Tim punctuated his point with a kiss to Tony's chest.

Tony's grin widened and he pulled Tim up his body until their foreheads were resting against one another's. "I think I'll take my chances."

Tim kissed Tony's cheek with a playful smile. "What a brave and noble man you are Very Special Agent DiNozzo."

"Maybe brave." He brushed a hand through Tim's hair. "But never as noble as you, even Specialer Agent Timothy McGee."

A duck of the head, a kiss to the collarbone and a reprimand for his bad grammar were what Tony received in return. He hugged Tim tighter to him.

Noble Tim was indeed. Noble to a fault.

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><p>AN Update: I fixed a few mistakes within the story and I add:

On average **one** person **dies** every **48 minutes** due to an alcohol-impaired driver.

I beg all, never drive drunk. This subject has, in more than one case, made a huge impact on my entire family. It hurts. It's a horrible thing and it destroys lives. Never do it. It's not only your own life that you are risking. It's impact reaches far and wide, in ways that you can't even begin to imagine. I pray this story has helped to open some eyes. Love all. Thanks for the reviews! They make my year!


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